


A Moment to Ourselves

by Darazelly



Series: A Collection of Moments [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety, Early Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 16:13:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7179476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darazelly/pseuds/Darazelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither of them particularly enjoy their night at the Winter Palace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment to Ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble thing I've poked away at here and there over the past few weeks.

Cullen had intended to keep to the side-lines during the evening and just focus on making sure that their soldiers were getting in position to act if needed.

The Winter Palace wasn’t his arena; it was Josephine and Leliana’s. Here, physical blades were traded for cutting words, lies and hidden intentions behind every movement with no indication of who was friend or foe.

At least he could make himself useful and stay close to the Empress’ area of the ballroom in case something happened.

But not long after that he had found himself an empty spot from where he could observe those who approached the Empress, a pair of giggling noblewomen sidled up to him.

“Are you the commander of the Inquisition?” One of them asked with a pleasant smile, visible thanks to her white mask that was beset with precious stones and shimmering blue-green feathers.

“Yes I am, my lady,” Cullen responded with a polite nod. Josephine had drilled them all in the etiquettes of the court as the last thing they needed was someone to make a fool out of the whole Inquisition due to poor manners. By some miracle, even Sera seemed to play nice and behave somewhat better. So far at least.

“Oh my,” the other one, dressed in reds and golds with a gilded mask, giggled. Her red painted lips stretched in a smile that Cullen swore almost looked hungry. “You certainly have the… stature of someone used to be in charge. Befit of a former Knight-Commander, I’d say.”

His brow creased in a frown. After the rebellion, he’d never formally been promoted to Knight-Commander, even though he’d been the leader of the Templars left in Kirkwall. “I’m afraid I-“

“Must be such hard work, keeping your troops in order,” the lady in white interrupted him while pressing closer to his side, her gloved hand coming to rest on his arm.

The thick cloud of perfume that surrounded her made his nose itch, and as they kept happily chattering with him, he felt the overwhelming scent make his head ache.

And to his mounting horror, it didn’t stop there.

Two noblewomen became three. Four. Two noblemen joined them. Another woman. It didn’t take long before he was surrounded by a cluster of people trying to make small-talk despite his short, disinterested answers. He didn’t know how long time passed, but try as he might, he couldn’t get rid of them. If anything, his excuses just made them press closer, their hands reaching out to touch his arm or back. The way they eyed him up and down made him feel like a piece of meat surrounded by a pack of starved wolves.

What had Dorian said about these sorts of social events? Smiles hiding knives while sweet poison drips from every word?

It was all he could do to keep the panic at bay, focusing on reminding himself that the hand sliding down his back had no claws, that there was no pointy toothed smile hiding behind a mask.

“Are you married, commander?”

Cullen blinked and glanced at woman who reached past the white-clad woman from before to put a hand on his arm. The fingers of the woman in white dug into his arm, as if she wanted to pull him away from this new contender. A cold shiver raced up his spine at the sensation of the women crowding him, and he forced himself to take a deep, calming breath, only to have to supress a cough at the thick smell of their perfumes. He couldn’t very much tell them he was with the Inquisitor, as tempting as the thought was if it meant they’d leave him alone. “Uh no, I’m however seeing someone.”

“So, still single then,” another woman cooed. Or maybe not even that would deter them.

He was just about to deny the claim when he felt a brazen hand on his rear, the touch too firm to be accidental. Cullen instantly froze and had to fight down the reflex to lurch away. “Did you… just grab my bottom?!”

“I’m a weak, weak man,” a nobleman chuckled, judging by the tone of his voice not sorry one bit.

Cullen drew a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists to still his nerves and the prickling anxiety in his chest. He wished desperately for his armour and the comforting weight of his sword at his side, that he could grasp the pommel of it to have somewhere to put his hands. They couldn’t afford making a spectacle, or they’d be thrown out of the ball. He could only hope one of their soldiers, or Josephine, or even Elshira would need him for something that would give him an excuse to leave these people.

Weak.

He swallowed thickly and felt the by now familiar unpleasant, choking sensation at the back of his throat. If he took some lyrium, he wouldn’t be stuck in this situation. He’d be calm, collected.

In control.

His mouth felt as dry as sand, his hands trembling.

“Excuse me; I need to talk with Commander Cullen.”

The familiar voice cut through the chatter of the nobles and Cullen’s dark thoughts, a wave of relief rising up in his chest when the nobles reluctantly stepped aside to reveal Elshira. The noblewoman still at his side tightened her grip on his arm, her brightly painted lips pushed out in a pout.

“Oh, Inquisitor,” she whined, sounding every bit like a child about to have its favourite toy taken away. “Surely you won’t deprive us of the good Commander’s presence?”

It was eerie to see Elshira direct a cool glance towards the noblewoman, her expression devoid of her usual open warmth and instead schooled into a careful diplomatic mask that reminded him all too much about Vivienne’s cool exterior. “Afraid I am, lady Du Viome,” she responded with a courteous smile as she stepped up to Cullen’s side. “Now, if you all would be so kind as to excuse us.”

Cullen heard lady Du Viome huff out a breath as he squirmed out of her grip and offered his arm to Elshira. It was a relief to leave the nobles behind as they made their way over to an unoccupied corner towards the end of the ballroom. He drew a deep, grateful breath of the fresh evening air that flowed in from the open balcony door nearby.

“Are you alright?”

He turned to face her and mustered a small smile despite the tension behind his forehead. “Yes, just a bit… warm.” It wasn’t an outright lie; his back was damp from the temperature in the ballroom.

She let go of his arm, the aloof exterior shattering like a sheet of thin ice as a soft smile spread on her lips. “I can image. I feel warm as it is in this dress, I can’t imagine how it is wearing a thick jacket.” She gave a small, bashful shrug while tugging at the skirt of her dress.

As much as he disliked letting her walk around in this viper’s nest with no protection, Cullen couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she looked in the soft candlelight. Her auburn hair, gently curled for the evening, was pinned back behind her right ear with a clasp adorned with glass flowers. Amongst the extravagant gowns of the orleasians, her dark, wine red dress stood out in its simple elegance, the cut of it baring her shoulders to his curious eyes. Part of him wanted to reach out and touch the scar that ran over her right shoulder to disappear down her back. It looked old. Wonder what had happened?

“Have you seen anything out of the ordinary?”

Cullen snapped his gaze back to her face, then cleared his throat and shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen or heard anything,” he quickly answered while a familiar heat spread up the back of his neck.

Her eyes narrowed a fraction, her lips pressed together as if she was trying to supress a laugh. “Well, I encountered Celene’s arcane advisor.”

A frown creased his brow. Leliana had mentioned to him that Celene had an advisor who wasn’t from the Circle, although she’d assured him of her doubts that said advisor was a Tevinter spy. “Was she to any trouble?” he asked.

“I think she can be trusted,” Elshira responded with a thoughtful look. “She gave me a key she’d found on a Tevinter infiltrator. I suspect it may lead to the servant quarters, so I need to find Leliana so her agents can move our gear to where we can get it.”

Cullen nodded as a lump of worry settled in his chest. “You expect hostile forces?”

She hummed in acknowledgement, her expression tense as her eyes briefly flicked around to make sure nobody was listening to them. “One of the elven servants told me that their people have been disappearing there all evening.”

“Then let’s go and find Leliana,”

He held out his arm to her, and she accepted it with a gracious smile that broke the grim expression on her face. “Not eager to get back to your admirers?”

Cullen grimaced and shook his head. “Maker no.”

“Not enjoying the attention then?”

“I didn’t ask for it. Besides your-,“ he cast a quick look at the group of nobles they were passing and lowered his voice, leaning down towards her to make himself heard over the music and chatter around them. “Besides, your attention is the only one worth having.

The soft giggle as she glanced up at him and gave a light squeeze to his arm warmed his insides and for a precious moment he wished they were somewhere else, a safe place with no assassins lurking in the corners where he could devout all his attention to her.

They’d only been together for a few weeks now, stealing moments together whenever they could. But all too often they were kept busy with their respective tasks, only managing a shared dinner here, or a walk around the battlements there. Maker’s breath, he wanted her alone to himself for just an evening for once, as selfish a wish it might be, to whisk her away somewhere where she could relax if just for a moment. He was still coming to grips with what he was feeling but… this was nothing like what he’d felt for Ilvy back in the Circle. There was no shame conflicting with his yearning to be by Elshira’s side, to hold her in his arms, no eternal tug of war between his sense of duty and his heart.

In a sense, it was liberating.

“Is that the Inquisitor? A rabbit?”

The startled gasps drew his attention just as he felt her hand tighten its hold on his arm.

“I thought it was just rumours that she was a savage knife-ear from the north!?”

“I’ve heard that she’s been dubbed a Champion.”

“What an outrage!”

A derisive scoff followed the hissed statement. “Wonder how many she had to spread her legs for to receive that honour.”

Cullen’s chest grew tight when he felt her stiffen beside him as a white hot rage rose up within him. Callous laughter reached them before the group of nobles was swallowed up by the dim of the ballroom.

“Elshira…” he growled as he slowed his steps, wanting to turn back and confront the nobles. She’d trained hard to gain her title, defeating several other Champions in single-combat to do so. He was proud over the progress she’d made since she’d begun training with him and Cassandra in Haven and how eagerly she’d tossed herself into Lord Chancer’s lessons to better protect her companions in battle.

“Cullen, don’t.” He looked down at her at the sound of her stiff voice, gritting his teeth in anger when he saw her carefully controlled expression and polite smile.

Elshira glanced up at him and gave his arm a gentle tug to keep him walking. “It’s not worth it.”

“They have no right to-“

“They do it on purpose, and I won’t give them the satisfaction of letting them get to me with such cheap tactics. Not here, not on ground that used to belong to my people.” She directed her eyes back in front of them. “There, I think I see Leliana.”

Reluctantly, he let go of the subject and turned his head to follow her line of sight. True enough, he could spot Leliana’s familiar red hair a bit ahead of them. When they drew near, she politely excused herself from the elderly noblewoman she had been speaking with and came to meet them.

“Has something happened?” she asked.

“I need to investigate the servant’s quarters,” Elshira responded, and then recounted what she’d found so far.

Once she finished, Leliana nodded in understanding. “I’ll have someone by the entrance with your gear in five minutes.” And then she turned and disappeared off amongst the other guests.

“I better go and gather Dorian, Varric and Bull,” Elshira murmured as she let go of his arm and took a step away from him. Instantly, he missed her presence by his side.

“Be careful,” he murmured.

She gave him a small smile and nodded. “I always am.” She turned to leave, but then paused, giving him an amused glance. “Save me a dance later?”

“No thank you.”

The second the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to slap himself.

Elshira’s eyebrows rose as her smile faltered. “Oh.”

Despite her obvious attempt to hide it, he saw the hurt look in her eyes at his brusque refusal. 

“No, I didn’t meant-“he hurried to explain himself. “Maker’s breath, I have answered that question so many times tonight that I reject it automatically.” He took her hand in his, uncaring about whether someone noticed the far from professional gesture. “I can’t dance,” he sheepishly admitted. Suddenly he wished that he hadn’t convinced Josephine to give up her attempts to teach him anything more than some basic dance steps. “Templars are never invited to balls.”

Her expression softened as she gave his hand a light squeeze. “Cullen, it’s alright, I was jesting.” She gave him a small smile before she slipped her hand out of his grasp and turned away from him. “We’re after all not here for the enjoyment. Be careful yourself, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Cullen watched her disappear into the crowd with a knot of worry in his chest. Part of him wondered if he’d ever get used to watching her walk off into danger.

With a sigh he turned and started making his way back to his spot in case they needed to find him.

\-----

 

It was a relief to step out into the cold night air, the gentle breeze a blessing against her hot skin. Elshira cast a glance behind herself to make sure she wasn’t followed before stepping further out onto the balcony. The dim of the celebrations in the ballroom grew muted as she walked over to lean against the banister, her mind clearing a bit as she gazed out over the dark landscape. From here, she could see the faint green light of where the closed Breach still marred the sky, like a reminder of that they might have won a battle today but not the war.

The empress was safe, and Briala had been appointed the new Marquis of the Dales. It was a better outcome than Elshira had hoped for a scant few hours ago, but it was a relief that everything may have worked out in their favour and with so little bloodshed too. She had briefly feared that reconciling Celene and Briala would be seen as an elven conspiracy by the nobles, but for now they seemed all too glad to try and get whatever favours they could from the Inquisition.

Quite the change of heart from how they’d scoffed at her earlier in the evening.

“The orleasian nobility make drunken toasts to your victory, and yet you are not present to hear them?”

Elshira turned around, recognizing the melodic voice of Celene’s occult advisor. How the woman managed to move so quietly in one of those huge dresses, she had no idea.

Morrigan tilted her head to her side as she came to stand next to her. “Do you tire so quickly of their congratulations, Inquisitor? ‘tis most fickle, after all your efforts on their behalf.” The sharp look in her catlike eyes made Elshira feel like her soul was laid bare in front of her.

Yet, despite Leliana’s warnings about this mysterious woman ringing clear in the back of her head, she relaxed and gave a small smile. “I would have stayed, but the punch ran dry. Scandalous.”

Morrigan chuckled and crossed her arms. “Indeed? Let us see if you take this piece of news as poorly.”

Elshira raised her eyebrows, her curiosity piqued as Morrigan seemed to draw herself to her full height, looking far more regal than any of the nobles in the ballroom behind them could ever hope to manage.

“By imperial decree, I have been named a liaison to the Inquisition. Celene wished to offer you any and all aid – including mine. Congratulations.”

Whatever she had expected, that was not it. “Is this your wish, or Celene’s?”

“The assignment has been given to me regardless of my personal interest.” Morrigan turned to gaze out over the shadowy landscape of the Dales, the distant flickering green light of where the closed Breach lay occasionally visible through the clouds. “Celene knows you face an opponent who wields great magical power, which is far more important than her own curiosity.”

Morrigan turned her attention back to Elshira. “You will require my knowledge if you are to defeat such magic.”

The conviction in her voice made Elshira’s curiosity grow further, and she made a mental note to ask Leliana what she knew of Morrigan’s background at the earliest convenience. “What skills do you have to offer us?”

“I have knowledge which falls… beyond the realm of most mages.”

At that, Elshira couldn’t help but chuckle. “Forgive me, but you certainly don’t seem like a Circle mage to me, so I presumed as much.” Neither did she seem like an ordinary hedge mage. No, there was something about Morrigan’s demeanour that reminded her of her own people’s Keepers - something wild and untamed, a deep-rooted strength drawn from long lost secrets.

The hint of a smile spread on Morrigan’s lips. “I am indeed not. And I suspect that this is also true of Corypheus, if he is who he claims to be. Thus it behoves you to add to your arcane arsenal, yes?” Her eyes narrowed a fraction as she glanced towards the scar in the sky once again. “Mundane knowledge will not bring the rift in the sky to a close, after all.”

Elshira crossed her arms and stared out over the Dales while Morrigan silently waited for her reply. Part of her wondered if Morrigan had a vested interest in this assignment in some way; they had over the past month discovered threads of information that could lead to many long lost secrets. Old magic was valuable and should be treasured, no matter what the Chantry might declare. Different perspectives were always needed to solve a problem.

“Very well,” Elshira finally started as she turned her eyes back to Morrigan. “Welcome to the Inquisition Morrigan.”

Morrigan inclined her head ever so slightly with a small smile. “A most gracious response. I shall meet you at Skyhold.”

And without further good-byes, she turned and swept back towards the balcony doors. Elshira watched her leave before returning to regarding the landscape. Leliana would probably not approve, Vivienne even less so.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind her. Elshira looked over her shoulder, half expecting to see some noble that had spotted Morrigan leaving and found her. But to her relief, it was just Cullen who hesitated briefly when their eyes met.

“There you are!” he greeted her as he finally approached. “Everyone’s been looking for you.”

Elshira huffed out a breath and leaned against the banister on her elbows. “They weren’t this eager to see me a few hours ago.” She glanced at Cullen when he too leaned against the banister next to her. She’d hoped they might get a moment to themselves.

“Things have calmed down for the moment. Are you all right?”

Her heart warmed at his soft question, and she gave him a gentle smile. “I’m just worn out. Tonight has been… long, very long."

He smiled slightly in response and nodded. “For all of us. I’m glad it’s over.”

The memory of his uncomfortable posture and stiff expression when surrounded by the nobles before came back to her and she reached out to touch his forearm. “What about you? Are you alright?” she asked quietly.

Cullen looked surprised for split a second before his eyes softened with a smile as he nodded. “I am. Our troops have helped Celene’s guards clear out any remaining hostiles.” He raised a hand to brush back some of her loose hair behind her ear. She’d lost the hairpin somewhere along the evening amongst the hasty changes in and out of her gear. Hopefully one of Leliana’s agents had picked it up with her armour; she quite liked it.

“I know it’s foolish, but I was worried about you tonight.”

Before she had a chance to reply, Cullen cast a glance back towards the ballroom as the orchestra started playing a new song, and then stepped away from her. “I may never have another chance like this, so I must ask.”

Curiously, Elshira eyed him as he bowed and extended a hand towards her with a warm, hopeful look in his eyes. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

Her smile grew as she put her hand in his and let him pull her close. “I thought you didn’t dance?” she asked softly. Was this the sorts of moments human women read about in their romance books? It certainly felt like it could be one of them.

Cullen breathed out a low laughter that made her heart skip a beat as he put his other hand on her waist. “For you, I’ll try.”

He started leading her in a slow dance around the balcony, and at once it was as if all the stress and pressures of the evening melted away as they swayed along to the music. Cullen glanced about nervously every time he stumbled over a step, mumbling an apology under his breath.

“I did say Templars never get invited to balls,” he murmured at one point.

“Neither are elven hunters,” Elshira giggled and squeezed his hand. “You didn’t see how much I tripped over Josephine and Dorian’s feet at the start of my lessons.”

He gave her a gentle look and chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it.”

This unsure, boyish side of him was such a far cry from the commander she’d seen bark orders at the soldiers in the early morning hours and who’d worked her hard in the training ring to right any and all faults he found with her combat technique.

She would never have guessed that such a gentle soul hid under his stern exterior when she had first met him at the Haven Chantry.

Far too soon the music began dwindling down and their steps began to slow. With a content sigh, Elshira rested her head against his shoulder. “Thank you Cullen,” she whispered.

She felt his hand on her waist press a little tighter into her skin for the fraction of a second, while he let go of her hand to wrap both his arms around her in a hug. “Anything for you, Eli.”

The irony of that she stood here, on her people’s old lands, embracing a human wasn’t lost at her. Yet, the security she felt with Cullen’s arms around her was something she’d missed for years. There was a sense of trust and care in his touches, and his voice would calm her even when she was stressed out from meetings or filled with doubt from all the decisions she had to make.

Smiling, she glanced up at him before rising up on her toes to press her lips to his in a soft kiss. Cullen made a quiet sound of approval as he cupped her cheek and pulled her closer with the arm still around her waist. Both of them were too lost to the moment to fear that anyone might catch them in the act.

When the audible sound of someone clearing their throat came from the doorway, Elshira nearly leapt out of her skin as they both quickly put some distance between each other, for whatever good that would do.

“As much as I hate breaking up this absolutely adorable scene,” Dorian began with a wide grin. “I’m afraid that people are looking for you, Inquisitor.”

Next to him, Varric chuckled and gave Cullen a scrutinizing look. “Ruffles, to be more specific, and last we saw her she had a gaggle of nobles willing to make deals with the Inquisition in tow.”

Cullen cleared his throat and nodded, shifting uncomfortably next to her. “I better go and find Rylen and Cassandra to make sure all our troops are taken care of.” His hand brushed over the small of her back, and their eyes locked as he hesitated for a brief moment before leaning in and giving her a last soft kiss. When he pulled back, he inclined his head and murmured “Inquisitor”.

“Commander,” she responded with a soft laugh and watched him disappear back into the ballroom.

Varric shot her an amused glance before he followed Cullen, leaving Elshira alone with Dorian. Her cheeks were burning at being caught, even though Dorian had been the one to encourage her to talk to Cullen about their relationship to start with.

The amused smirk on Dorian’s face didn’t fade as he stepped out onto the balcony. “Ah the disappointment the fair noble ladies and gentlemen will feel when they find out that the dear commander is taken,” he drawled with a dramatic swish of his hand.

“Oh shush you,” Elshira snorted and swatted him on the arm.

He grinned in reply. “Why? I’m just speaking the words of truth!” Then he seemed to sombre up a bit and offered her his arm. “I’m happy for you both, my friend.”

Smiling, Elshira looped her arm with his. “Thank you, Dorian.”

“Now then, shall we go and find lady Montilyet before she brings the whole palace down around our ears?”

“Oh we can’t have that,” Elshira laughed as they walked back inside.


End file.
